


The Right Partner

by JQ37



Category: She Loves Me - Bock/Harnick/Masteroff
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-08-07 08:33:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7708147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JQ37/pseuds/JQ37
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Amalia finds Georg in a compromising position.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Right Partner

Georg has to admit, it looks bad.

Worse than bad really. How much worse does it get than being found by your fiance, breathing heavily, and tangled on the floor with said fiance’s best friend well after closing time at your mutual workplace?

Which alone would be bad enough but there’s also the fact that Amalia had just recently remarked on the fact that he’d arrived at their past three coffee dates smelling like perfume–specifically Flowers of Spring as opposed to the general, ever-present, nondescript scent that comes from working at a parfumerie.     

It’s Ilona’s go-to perfume and although Amalia didn’t say it, he knows that she knows and he knows that she knows that he knows but she didn’t follow up on her remark and he didn’t offer an explanation. Now, looking up at Amalia from the ground, his head aching where he hit it, he kind of wishes that he had.

So, it certainly looks bad and that’s why the first words that fly from Georg’s mouth before he even attempts to move into a less compromising position are, “It’s not what it looks like!”

Amalia takes another few steps into the room, her heels clicking on the tile. She raises an eyebrow and crosses her arms and Georg cringes in anticipation as she opens her mouth to speak.

 “It looks like Ilona was helping you with your,” she gestures vaguely to all of him, “general lack of dancing ability before our wedding but, despite her being an excellent dancer, you still managed to trip and take her down with you. But if you have a different explanation I’d _love_ to hear it,” she practically purrs.

“That’s…actually exactly right.” By now, he’s scrambled up off of the floor and he’s helping Ilona up too. Ilona smooths out her dress, squeezes Georg’s forearm in thanks, and grins somewhat apologetically at Amalia before making a quick exit.  

Georg watches her go for a moment and then studies Amalia’s face. She looks curious and a little amused. Nothing negative. Still, he feels a bit sheepish as he closes the small distance between them and takes her hands in his. “You’re not mad?”

She tilts her head in confusion and brown curls fall into her eyes. “Why would I be mad?”

“Because I was…well y’know. I thought you might think–”

“Never,” Amalia says, almost too forcefully. She shakes her head and softens her tone. “I know you couldn’t. Ilona either. I promise, the thought never seriously crossed my mind.”

To that, he raises her hands to his lips and kisses them. Her face flushes slightly and she smiles. Then, her smile turns sly. “Besides, I knew you two were up to something. I just didn’t know exactly what until just now.”

“It was the perfume wasn’t it?”

“Well it was that,” she agrees, “along with everything else you’ve done and said over the past three weeks.”

He pulls away, confused. “Huh?” Three weeks is exactly the amount of time he’s spent practicing with Ilona. Besides the perfume thing, he thinks he’s done a pretty good job keeping his plans under wraps.

But she just strokes his cheek. “Georg, I love you and you have many talents but secret-keeping is not one of them.”

“Are you sure about that? Because I seem to recall one secret that I kept very well.”

She explodes into peals of laughter so immediately that he wonders if he should be affronted.

“What? I didn’t say anything.”

Amalia stifles her laughter so she can answer. “Just because you didn’t say anything directly, doesn’t mean you kept the secret well.” She raises herself to her full height and does her best impression of Georg. “ _Every train is Anna’s train and every platform is Anna’s platform._ ” She scoffs lightly. “You might as well have just told me then.” 

“Did I really sound like that?”

She kisses him and then mimics him once more, sincerely this time. “You sounded _irresistible_.” When he tries to return the kiss, she stops him with a finger to the lips. “And, while we’re on the subject, you are a 6 foot 3 man who can do a perfect cartwheel. I’m not convinced you have any coordination issues.”

“Amalia you’ve seen me dance. I’m a mess.”

“Yes, but I don’t think it’s a coordination issue. I think you just haven’t been dancing with the right person.” She moves one of his hands to her waist and grasps his shoulder.

He tenses momentarily but when she takes his other hand and looks up at him, it suddenly feels like the most natural thing in the world. “Do you think so?”

“I do,” she replies.

And, as she counts them off, they begin to waltz.

**Author's Note:**

> Look, I can appreciate the pangs of jealousy trope as much as the next gal but I much rather the implicit trust to the point of seeming ridiculousness trope. Relationships built on mutual trust are my jam.


End file.
